Blood Tears
by The Dreamer1
Summary: Not all stories have a happy ending. Rated R for dark themes, including suicide; also yaoi. Visions of violence. Daiken, or ensuke; depends how you see it.


Blood Tears  
  
AN: I wanted to write. I wanted to write angst. I wanted to write angsty shounen-ai. Hence, Daiken: the Ultimate Angsty Yaoi Pair. I haven't posted in a while, I know. Here's to hoping this receives the same praise as some of my other stuff.  
  
WARNING: No happy ending this time. As in, dark. Very, extremely, extraordinarily dark. Heck, it gives me shivers and I WROTE the damn thing. Also, it's Daiken, meaning yes: Daisuke + Ken. I don't want any flames telling me that I'm going to Hell for breaking up Kenyako, or Daikari, or whatever. I like both of those, this just happens to be neither of them.  
  
Disclaimer: Lyrics to 'Blood Tears' belong to Blind Guardian, and Daisuke, Ken, Wormmon, and any other Digimon characters belong to Toei. The story, however, and any ideas contained herein, belongs to me. Archive it? Sure, just tell me where it's going.  
  
******  
  
IWelcome to my realm  
  
We are both condemned to live  
  
It's a dark fate  
  
I can hear your calls  
  
THE ETERNAL LIFE/I  
  
Ken shot out of bed, reflexively landing in a defensive pose. He was sweating, still shaking from the dream. The same nightmare that had haunted him for days. He was beginning to think that nothing could rid him of it.  
  
/I'm standing on a balcony, looking down at the street. It's night out, or at least there's very little light. The clouds over my head are tumulus, swirling around like it's going to storm. It starts to rain.  
  
The rain streaks down my hands and I see that it's blood. I look up, and he's standing there next to me, the blood rain running down his face like tears. I reach over to touch his face, and he smiles gently and pushes my hand away. The look on his face, it's almost macabre; that small smile and the blood outlining his features.  
  
Suddenly I know I have to get to him. I start running toward him, but instead of getting closer, he gets further and further away. It's still raining; the blood's getting in my eyes and it stings. The street is gone and so is the balcony; it's just me, running, and him standing there. But I can't catch him.  
  
I stop because I'm having trouble breathing; I've been running for a long time. And then, he's there, right in front of me, smiling. His hand grasps my chin and he looks me in the eye, and he says  
  
"You can't run anymore."  
  
And just like that, he's in my arms and he's dead. I don't know how, or why; he's just cradled in my arms, his body broken and bleeding. I can't tell if it's still raining, there's too much of his blood. I start screaming and it's like I'll never stop./  
  
II see it still burns  
  
Each night I cry in pain/I  
  
He looked around frantically, eyes taking in the serene picture of his bedroom, sheets rumpled on his bed and Wormmon still snoring peacefully. Slowly, Ken calmed his breathing and slowed his speeding heart rate. It was, after all, just a dream.  
  
Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping Digimon, Ken climbed back into bed. Sleep, however, would not return to the troubled boy this night. The dream still fresh in his mind, Ken lay awake until morning.  
  
IAlive  
  
Though the end appears my friend/I  
  
Ken skirted the soccer field, wondering what exactly he was doing here. It was only a dream; he shouldn't be this worried over a night-haunting. Still, it wouldn't hurt just to check. Would it?  
  
And indeed, there he was, pounding up the field in practice. Leaning against a tree, Ken stood and watched Daisuke rip through the defense and pound in a goal. Even though it was only practice, the ginger-haired boy punched his fists in the air, his own private victory dance, before bounding back into position to run the play again.  
  
Shaking his head and smiling a bit, Ken turned away. It was hard to believe that this was the same person he had held, dead and bleeding, in his dream just last night. Hopefully, know that he had checked on his wayward friend, his thoughts could rest easy again.  
  
Not so.  
  
But this time it's different.  
  
IAnd blood tears I cry  
  
You've searched and you've found  
  
Cut off your old friends hand/I  
  
/I'm not on the balcony this time, just in black space. He's still there, though, and the blood rain still falls. Ghastly as it seems, he's still beautiful, the red of the blood picking up the tan in his skin and the red in his hair. It's shocking, then, to realize that I love him, and that we can never be together.  
  
He shakes his head and looks at me; is that pity in his eyes? Or sorrow? He leans in towards me, locking eyes. His are laughing, mine, undoubtedly, are frightened. He leans closer, whispering in my ear.  
  
"You can't run anymore."  
  
And then he kisses me. It isn't anything like I imagined; he's salty, metallic. Too much like the blood pouring from the sky. His arms reach up to twine around my neck, his fingers twisting in my hair. My hands, of their own accord, reach for his waist and I pull him closer. I don't think any force in the world could have separated us just then.  
  
Except for one thing.  
  
And all of a sudden, he's in my arms again. It doesn't truly matter how he went from kissing me to dead in my arms, and I don't think I want to know. I tilt my head back and scream my rage to the black sky, raindrops of blood splashing in my mouth.  
  
Too much like him./  
  
IMy mind's  
  
In frozen dreams  
  
The rotten flesh  
  
Of bitter lies  
  
Welcome to where time stands still  
  
No one leaves and no one ever will/I  
  
Once more, Ken walked to the soccer field to watch him play. Just to check. Just to make sure. And once again, there he was, running with joy evident on his face. Joy, just to be running for the sake of the feel of wind against his face.  
  
Ken shook his head, a small smile on his lips. Once again he wondered how he could ever dream the death of one so vibrantly, so totally, so completely alive. In the sunlight, it seemed unthinkable.  
  
He turned to leave, and stopped. Hadn't he done this yesterday, without any change in the dream? Maybe he should speak to him. Maybe.. Maybe he wouldn't mind.  
  
So Ken waited, shadowing the tree, until Daisuke's soccer practice had finished. He waited, until Daisuke had packed up his equipment, and until he commenced walking home, chugging at a water bottle. Until he passed by the tree, where he saw Ken lurking in the shadow.  
  
They chatted about this, that, and the other thing for fifteen minutes before parting. Daisuke waved, saying something about getting together sometime, and started on his way.  
  
Finally, Ken was sure he'd be able to get some sleep. His friend was fine.  
  
ICan't hold it  
  
It burns  
  
Each night I cry in pain/I  
  
/There is no wasted time tonight. It's black, and the blood rain falls, and your kissing me like there's no tomorrow. I doubt very much that you could have fit a spatula in between us.  
  
Somewhere, someone moans. I don't know if it's you, or me, or if it even matters. Your hands are sliding down my sides to the hem of my shirt, and then they're underneath going up my chest. Your hands are cold, cold like a dead thing. Gently you lift my shirt off, exposing a chest that's hardly ever seen the sun.  
  
The blood is running down my front, tracing the contours of my chest. My head goes back, my mouth opening, but I don't make any noise as you ravish the flesh at the nape of my neck. Your lips find my ear, and you say softly, gently  
  
"You can't run any more."  
  
I'm ready, though, for your death. I grasp you to my body, willing the inevitable not to happen, but not surprised when it does. My grief is sharpened even more to know that I tried to prevent it, tried to keep you with me. I fall on my knees, tears streaming down to mingle with the blood on your face.  
  
I can see the slashes on your wrists./  
  
IAnd blood tears I cry  
  
Endless grief remained inside  
  
And blood tears I cry  
  
Endless grief remained inside/I  
  
Indigo eyes slid open, trying to erase the pain and sorrow from this nightmare. Slowly, Ken took stock of where he was, feeling the cool of sheets against his skin, the weight of Wormmon against his back. It was early enough that moonlight was still streaming in through his window, so he swung his legs off the bed and went to stand in the light.  
  
His gaze went over the streets, over the pavement gleaming in the moonlight. In his mind's eye, he could see Daisuke standing on the road, face tilted up to him, laughing as the blood rain fell.  
  
At least it wasn't raining tonight.  
  
IIt seems so clearly  
  
Bent the bow  
  
Cause life in me is gone  
  
And a cruel wind's blowing cold  
  
And a cruel wind's blowing cold  
  
In blame/I  
  
Somewhere this night, a boy is sitting huddled in a corner, legs against his chin. He is thinking of life, of society, of pressure, of love. He thinks of all these things, and then he thinks of the pain it brings him to force a smile every day. He thinks of everyone who expects him to be happy, who DEPENDS on his happiness. It has always been a constant in his life, this happiness.  
  
Until now, with the pain and rage and grief of being who he was catching up with him.  
  
It was a charade, and he knew it didn't have to be. He knew he should be able to scream his love to the sky without fear. But that wasn't the way it worked, not when you had to bear the weight of destiny.  
  
And destiny was written for him.  
  
He would end up with her, or maybe her, own the fucking noodle cart, and grow up to live in a God's-be-damned perfect world. That was how it should be. How it was fucking meant to be.  
  
Seeing him every day didn't help at all. Rather, it was a surprisingly sharp reminder of what he couldn't have. Of what he was destined not to have.  
  
Tanned fingers groped along the edge of the bathroom sink, and lowered when they found what they were searching for.  
  
IAnd life it shall wane  
  
Each night I cry in pain/I  
  
Again, Ken was shadowing the tree at Daisuke's soccer practice. Again, he watched the soccer star rip up the field, and again he watched the goal and ensued victory dance. But today, something was different. Something, something about the boy was lifeless, almost dead.  
  
Dead? Daisuke? Lifeless? Three words that should never be spoken in context together.  
  
After the practice, Ken stopped Daisuke, and the chatted again. IN all outwards appearances, Daisuke was his usual peppy self, and the change would have gone unnoticed if anyone else except Ken had looked for it.  
  
Ken hesitantly placed his hand on Daisuke's shoulder.  
  
"I can't help you fix it if I don't know what's wrong."  
  
Brown and indigo eyes opened wider, one in embarrassment, the other in wild hope. Daisuke's tanned hand reached up and squeezed Ken's slender white one.  
  
"If you stop running, I'll let you fix it."  
  
They stared at each other for a length, before Ken broke contact, turned, and silently walked away. Soundlessly, Daisuke stood and watched, tears filling his eyes. Shaking his head, he set his chin and began to walk home again.  
  
Well then, fine. If Ken didn't need him, he certainly didn't need Ken.  
  
In his house, he stared resolutely at the objects assembled. First, he reached for the ballpoint and scribbled out a note for the way-ward boy genius. The other thing, he left. It would come later.  
  
Clutching his piece of paper, Daisuke waited for nightfall.  
  
IAnd blood tears I cry  
  
Endless grief remained inside  
  
Cut off your old friends hand/I  
  
He didn't wait for sleep this time. He just hovered by the window, not bearing to close his eyes to the horror that surely awaited him.  
  
A drop of rain fell from the sky and slid down his cheek. Reaching up, he brushed it away, deftly flicking it from his face.  
  
He looked down at the street.  
  
Into Daisuke's waiting cinnamon eyes. Eyes that beckoned him, that dared him to come down.  
  
Not stopping to think whether it was real, or a dream, he raced outside and almost tripped over the shorter boy. The rain was coming down harder, but neither figure seemed to notice it as they contemplated the other. Daisuke's hand tentatively reached for Ken's face, fingers conforming to the angles as if they were the mold he'd been born from.  
  
He didn't taste like metal at all, Ken thought reflexively. He was.. Chocolate, cinnamon, sugar. Gingerbread. Rain.  
  
Ken's arms went to wrap around the shorter boy, but Daisuke's hands were faster. He reached into his pocket and whipped something out, and before Ken's very eyes, it was over.  
  
Lips still crushed against the other boy's, Daisuke gently slid the razor over his wrist with practiced ease, severing the vein. His life's-blood flowing away with every passing second, he could feel the crushing weight of expectation and destiny lessening.  
  
The rain fell, but it no longer smelled like rain.  
  
Ken tore his mouth away, and stared in revulsion at the draining body before him. He sunk to his knees and gathered the broken body too him. Has to be a dream, too much like my dream, can't be real, nononono..  
  
The tears dropped from his eyes, mixing with the rain. So much blood.  
  
Daisuke looked up at him, pale, so pale. He smiled slowly, as though every motion pained him. He raised a shaking hand to the sharp face again, which Ken clasped to him. Trying to stop the blood.  
  
"You can't run anymore."  
  
No, he couldn't run. And he couldn't fix it.  
  
The rain still pouring down, Ken raised his face to the sky and screamed. 


End file.
